Halfway
by Aisling Yinyr Ngaio
Summary: Pre Ep325. It is the wedding day of the season. Will the groom have reservations? Will the bride have regrets? And will there be a happily ever after?


**Halfway**

The bridal march was playing. The groom was waiting. It was, finally, the wedding day of Preston Burke and Cristina Yang, both excellent cardiothoracic surgeons.

In the front pew sat his parents, along with Cristina's mother and stepfather. They were all happy and… well, smug comes to mind, especially in the light of Cristina's half-hearted participation, although, to her credit, she did cooperate with their plans. Was he wrong to push for a traditional wedding when she had wanted the small one at city hall?

"Do you think this is the right thing?" he whispered out of the corner of his mouth to his best man, Derek Sheppard.

Derek eyed him sideways. "Hey, don't ask me. I've got your ring in my pocket. Besides, I'm divorced, remember? And… well, Mer and I aren't talking at the moment."

Surprised, Preston turned to face his best man. "You're not?"

"I sorta told her I met a girl at Joe's bar last night." Derek tried to be nonchalant about it, but Preston knew that it bothered him deeply.

"And…?"

"And… this is your wedding to Cristina, not mine. They're coming now."

"Oh, right. Right." So saying he turned back to face the aisle… and stopped.

_Black_? Since when were bridesmaids in _black_? Nice and formal though it was, bridesmaids wore pink or baby blue or, sometimes, cream. They wore, in Cristina language, candy floss colours. They don't wear… _oh my God._

For the bride, Cristina Yang herself, was in black.

_It's a goddamn ambush._

_Keep smiling, don't panic._ But it was hard to remain composed, seeing his dream wedding day sabotaged by his own wife-to-be and her bevy of bridesmaids. Even Izzie Stevens, who loved weddings, was marching up with a determined light in her eyes. Oh boy. _Not_ good.

The murmuring in the chapel grew as the four women reached the altar one after another. They took their place, and at last Cristina was right before him.

"You're in black," He stated the obvious.

"Mm-hmm."

"Your _bridesmaids_ are in black."

"Yes…"

"Do you want to tell me what this is all about?"

Cristina took a deep breath, and finally started speaking, "This is who I am, Burke. I'm Cristina Yang. I'm a surgeon. I'm going to be a cardiothoracic surgeon, just like you. I don't do white dresses. I'm not a wife. I told you that when I accepted your proposal. And now you are trying to make me into something I'm not."

"Cristina…"

"I'm not finished." Now that she'd started, Cristina took another deep breath and went on. "You said you didn't want me marrying you just to please you. And when I told you about our small ceremony at city hall, you didn't take me seriously. You are making me do what you didn't want me to: to marry you only to please you. Maybe some of the times you took charge things turned out well, but not this time. Not any more. If I change more of myself I will not be able to recognize myself in the mirror. And before long, I will only be a wife to you, cooking and cleaning and waiting for you to come home from work. Do you want that?"

"No, Cristina. But it's just a ceremony…"

"If I give in now, I might as well hand in my resignation to the Chief. Because I have lost too much of me, and if you and I continue in this rein, I will lose myself completely, compromise by compromise by compromise."

"You're making…"

"Too much out of it? Maybe. But I don't want lies in the wedding vows. I won't have you marry a phantom person instead of me. Tell me, Burke: Do you actually love me for who I am, or for who I can be, who you want me to be?"

His brain momentarily jammed. Hadn't he declared to his mother the other day? That Cristina would _eventually_ be happy? Was Cristina right? Was he forcing her in the wrong direction?

"Burke…" Cristina's face fell as she read Preston's indecision. "I know love is about compromise, but I can only meet you halfway. Are you ready to do the same?"

So saying, she held out her hand halfway.

_Love is about compromise, but I can only meet you halfway. Are you ready to do the same?_

To take her hand would be to step out of the box in which he was born, the ingrain idea that marriage was the ultimate triumph. To recognize that there was no such thing as a "correct" way for a "proper" wedding. That, perhaps, tradition and modernization can find and prosper in some middle ground.

That perhaps it was love, and not marriage, that was the ultimate triumph.

Preston looked up, into his mother's worried eyes. "I trust your instincts," she'd told him that day at the bridal shop. Maybe she'll trust him now, to do the right thing.

For there was only one thing to do.

He took her hand. And so doing, placed himself into her hands.

"Yes."

Cristina looked relieved. "You won't treat me differently after we're married."

He laughed, feeling free for the first time since his and Cristina's mother took over the planning of the wedding. "After that display? Never."

Cristina smiled too, feeling much more married than before. It was just as Izzie said. The wedding and the vows didn't mean anything if you already have your heart's desire: mutual love. "Then let's do it."

"The wedding? I thought you would rather do it at city hall."

"Yes, but I told you I'm meeting you halfway. Don't want to waste all this. So let's do it _before_ I change my mind. Besides, Mama took my eyebrows."

Looking at her "eyebrows", he asked curiously, "Then what are…"

"Don't ask." Anticipating his question, she interrupted it with mock resignation. Smiling broadly, Preston Burke led his lady to the minister. And there in the chapel, they reaffirmed the vows they had already made to each other: to stay strong and love one another, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, so long as they both shall live.

Amen.

_– Finis –_


End file.
